


Sex Repulsion and Asexuality Save the World (Though That's Not What Jon Claims)

by WibblytheSpaceAce



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 160 spoilers, Canon Asexual Character, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mention of Gertrude Robinson, Sex-Repulsed Jonathan Sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WibblytheSpaceAce/pseuds/WibblytheSpaceAce
Summary: Somehow despite having access to infinite knowledge, Jonah Magnus fails to understand a modern colloquialism and how thus the world is saved. There is a reference to sex in here but it has nothing to do with Jon or any actually present characters. This reference is based on jokes circulating on Tumblr which are base on speculation coming out of 161.  I wouldn't really call it a spoiler but avoid if you want to know absolutely nothing.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 49
Kudos: 319





	Sex Repulsion and Asexuality Save the World (Though That's Not What Jon Claims)

AN: This is my first fic in at least a decade, so please be gentle. That being said, I had a wonderful time writing and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to my wonderful Beta Andro!  
Disclaimer: All text that is familiar comes from TMA 160, Everything else besides the actual plot of this fic I borrowed for Jonny Sims and The Rusty Quill. 

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Jon brought to bear every ounce of mental energy to stop the words pouring from his lips. He knew Jonah Magnus was smart enough not to monologue, or at least use Jon to monologue for him without a point. There was no way this statement was just Jonah gloating. Despite his desperate struggle, the words continued to flow smoothly as Jonah had written them, with no sign that the speaker was trying so desperately to stop. Jon felt like his heart should be pounding, his breath coming in short desperate desired gasps to match the panic within him. But nothing was different from any other time he had read a statement… fed on a statement.

And that was the worst part… he could feel it. He’d been starting to get hungry again, not starving but still feeling it. He could feel his strength returning and the hunger dissipating as he went on. The Eye was lulling him, trying to make him give in and just let it happen. He hated himself for his weakness as he stopped fighting the statement, letting it continue to flow out of him.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to plead to anyone out there that Martin would return. That Martin would stop him… somehow… but there are no supernatural forces of good in the world. Or at least if there were, they did not answer his desperate silent plea. And so, it continued. He continued.

He heard Jonah Magnus tell him his story. He felt a morbid curiosity about the implications of what he was reading. The Eye in him, he supposed. The part of him that had always been. That goddamned curiosity which had led him straight into this mess.

He couldn’t help but pay attention to the part about Gertrude Robinson. She had always been a bit of a mystery. He’d never liked her methods, but he had to wonder if she had been right about certain things. If he’d just been a little more like her… then maybe he wouldn’t be here right now speaking words which would no doubt lead to terrible things.

“More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

“I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat. Actually, I believe her exact phrasing was, ‘an incarnation of the desolation destroyed my pussy—’”

Jon choked. For the first time since he had begun the statement, his mental shock and aversion to all things sexual in nature overwhelmed all control Beholding had over him. He could feel his lips moving as the Eye tried to keep him reading the statement, but his throat would not let the words pass. All that came out was a splutter. And then a hoarse laugh of pure shock.

It was only then he realized what had happened. He had choked. He had STOPPED! Before the Eye could drag him back to the statement, he pushed his chair back roughly.

While he’d been going for a quick escape, and maybe running to Martin while he still had some kind of wits about him, he overbalanced the chair and landed on his back, still bizarrely sitting in it. The sudden repositioning and perhaps a slight blow to the head left him stunned for a second.

He ended up rolling to the side and curled in the fetal position but didn’t even attempt to stand. The absurdity of the situation washed over him and he started to laugh. He laughed at the way his voice had sounded when he had said that last part, making it so clear that Jonah, with his Victorian notions, had no idea what that actually meant. He laughed with relief that he hadn’t finished the statement. And then he began to cry. It was relief, but also grief. He curled in on himself laughing and crying in turns and sometimes at the same time. He was so overwhelmed that he did not hear the door open, or Martin’s frantic calls. 

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Martin had been enjoying his walk, for the most part. He hadn’t seen any good cows to share with Jon yet, but he had hope that he would come upon one.

He was worried about Jon. That was nothing new. He was always worried about Jon. It was comforting in a way, being able to freely worry about Jon. To know Jon was back at the cabin. For once in his life, Martin had someone to go home to that actually wanted him to be there. That thought alone was enough to keep the fog at bay. He walked for about fifteen minutes before he finally saw a cow, and a broad grin split his face.

Before fleeing to Scotland three months ago—wow, had it really been three months?—he’d only ever seen pictures of cows. Not even Highland cows. They were so much bigger than he would have thought, and so much fluffier. He had been overjoyed when he saw them, but the best part, the best part had been the wonder on Jon’s face as he stared at the cows. He had walked forward unconsciously and started petting the cow. It had dwarfed him but was so gentle. Jon had buried his scarred hands in the thick fur, looking back at Martin with such joy.

“Martin, come and see, she’s so soft!”

Martin let out a happy chuckle as the memory faded and went to approach the cow he was seeing at the moment. He stroked the cow for a few minutes before heading back, wishing he still had a cell phone to take a selfie with the cow for Jon.

The statements didn’t usually take too long for Jon to “consume,” and Martin didn’t want to leave him alone for too long after. While the statements sated Jon’s hunger, experiencing all those emotions, even second hand, took a lot out of him.

He headed back to the cabin and smiled as he approached. The expression vanished, turning to horror as he entered and saw Jon curled on the floor next to an overturned chair, shuddering with what looked like sobs.

“JON!” he cried out as he dashed over to his trembling boyfriend. He fell to his knees at Jon’s side and touched his shoulder.

“Jon?” he asked quietly.

When Jon didn’t react to his touch or voice, Martin pulled him into his lap and stroked his cheek, which was indeed awash with tears.

“Martin?”

Jon’s voice was tremulous and hoarse as though he’d been screaming, or more likely sobbing, for as long as Martin had been away.

“Jon, what’s happened?”

Jon buried his face into Martin’s chest and said something muffled by the fabric.

“What?” Martin frowned, confusion and worry plain in his voice.

Jon tilted his head up slightly, peeking a look at Martin’s face before letting out a wet chuckle.

“I think Gertrude Robinson’s sex life just saved the world.”

Martin jerked back in bewildered surprise

“What?”

Jon ducked his head in embarrassment and started shaking again, but this time it was embarrassed laughter.

“What does Gertrude’s sex life have to do with anything? Never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Jon snorted against him and sobered.

“The statement. It was a trap.”

His voice was just audible, and his body was tense. Martin tightened his arms around him. Jon let out a sigh and leaned further into him.

“What do you mean, a trap?”

“It was from Jonah.”

Martin stiffened and glanced up at the table where the statement still sat innocently.

“He—he told me… about himself… about trying to perform ‘The Watchers Crown’. How he realized that rituals fail when he met Gertrude. I couldn’t stop reading”

Jon was crying again, and Martin stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“But then,” Jon let out a little laugh, “he said that Gertrude told him that she was so relentless in stopping the rituals because—because” laughter shook his entire bony frame, “because anavatarofthedesolationdestroyedherpussy.” He broke down into shaking laughter. “I-I, after that, I was so shocked, and kind of disturbed. You know sex…me…don’t really mix…but somehow that broke the eye’s control, and I could stop reading… I’m pretty sure that statement was going to be a ritual, one that might succeed… So yeah, I think Gertrude’s sex life just saved the world.”

Martin stared, looking at Jon and trying to process the absurdity of what he had just said. And then he began to laugh. Pressing his forehead to Jon, they sat there laughing until Martin’s knees reminded him that hard floors were not a great place to be kneeling.

He got up, pulling Jon up and holding him against his side. Jon’s eyes drifted over to the statement on the table before swiftly darting to Martin’s.

“You need to destroy it, before it calls me back.” He was trembling again, not with sobs or laughter, but terror.

Martin squeezed him, “Okay love, I’ll burn it. Do you want to know generally what the rest said?”

Jon shook his head, but then stopped.

“I don’t want to, but you should know what it involves so that you can keep an eye out for any more traps…he might not gloat next time. And I doubt he’ll stop trying.”

And so, Martin read the statement. He snorted at Jonah’s misunderstanding that broke the spell on Jon. And clenched his jaw in fury at the pain that Jonah had brought to Jon for the sake of this ritual. He saw the beginning of the invocation and read no further. Probably best for him not to know the words, lest Jon glimpse them by accident. He then burned the statement. He grinned savagely hoping that Jonah felt the pain.

After that he went up the stairs. While it was still early evening, it had been a hell of a day and Jon was curled in the bed.

Martin settled down next to him, pulling him close. Jon leaned against him and murmured, “I love you.”

Martin smiled softly at the words that still made his heart skip a beat. He pressed a kiss against Jon’s hair and murmured them back. 

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400 miles away, Jonah Magnus stared out at the world that had been meant to change. As he looked for reason that all his effort had failed his stunned silence was broken only by a “WHAT?!”


End file.
